


The Moment He Wants

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [36]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Boys In Love, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Markus and north are best bros, Markus is a disaster gay, Mutual Pining, Simon is a disaster gay, they're both too scared of ruining their friendship okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Markus has a horrible crush on Simon and has no idea what to do with it except tell Simon how much he means to him and hopes he won't bother Simon.Simon thinks Markus is flirting with him and has no idea what to do about it.
Relationships: Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 5
Kudos: 121





	The Moment He Wants

**Author's Note:**

> they are both the actual worst and i love them so much

Fandom: DBH

Prompt: “Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day.”

* * *

Markus isn’t above trying to figure out human problems too, okay, especially when they also pertain to androids.

For example, how the _fuck_ can Simon look the same as any other PL600 but at the same time be so fucking cute?

And that’s not to say the other PL600s aren’t but rA9 sometimes Simon will look at him and he wonders if he’s gonna run out of thirium with all of it rushing to his face.

So the first problem: he’s got the biggest crush on Simon and he has no idea how to deal with it.

Humans solve this problem by talking to the person and explaining how much they care about them but that’s scary so Markus isn’t gonna do it.

North scoffs when he tells her this. “You led our people from slavery and you can’t tell Simon you like him?”

“ _That_ was an obvious choice,” Markus defends, “how’m I supposed to be able to defend my choice love Simon in the same court?”

He assumes the posture of a lawyer presenting to a judge. “Yes, Your Honor, I would like to argue that I have the right to adore Simon on the grounds that he is one of the most compassionate, genuine people I have ever met and I wish to spend the rest of my eternity by his side.”

“You could try it.”

“North!”

North smacks his shoulder. “You _could,_ you know, just talk to him. He’s good with people, Markus, I don’t see the problem.”

Markus shakes his head. He knows Simon is good with people.

“My friendship with Simon,” he begins, “is one of the most important things to me.”

He glances outside where the leaves have just started to grow in.

“It kept me standing, even when you and Josh couldn’t talk to each other and spent every meeting screaming.” North doesn’t deny it, shifting on her perch.

Markus swallows. “I…I can’t lose him, North, and I don’t want to try and fix something that isn’t already broken.”

North whistles. “Shit, Markus, you write all that down?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. ‘Cause it’s stupid, right?” Markus waves his hand dismissively. “The whole fight for all of this I was pushing dialogue above all else, why the hell can’t I do it here?”

“Because words suck. What?” North shrugs at the glare Markus sends her way. “They do! You can only use them in a limited number of ways, it’s not like they give you an unlimited supply of things to do with them.”

She’s right.

“Plus it’s not like you always made every decision by yourself,” she continues, touching Markus’ shoulder, “and this one’s super personal. You’ll figure something out, Markus, you always do.”

“What are we figuring out?”

_Oh, hey, Simon. Good to see you._

_Hmm? Oh, no, I’m fine, just battling a really serious crush on you with the crippling fear that I’ll ruin our friendship forever._

“Hey, Simon!” North waves.

“Hi.” Simon shoots a concerned glance at Markus. “Everything okay?”

“Just dandy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Simon raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

He takes a step forward. “Markus, you seem like you’re…lost.”

“In your eyes, maybe.”

The words slip out before Markus can crawl them back. _Shit._

Simon shakes his head, a smile crawling across his face. And…is that a little blush Markus can see?

“Only you, Markus.” With that, Simon leaves.

Markus watches him go. Simon blushed. And he wasn’t angry. He can work with that.

“You’re gonna just do a whole bunch more of that, aren’t you,” North says from his elbow.

“Yep.”

“Well, this is gonna turn out well.”

It does, actually, but let’s explain how we got there.

It’s easy for Markus to start layering compliments on Simon, he’s thinking them already. They start off smaller because Markus isn’t gonna venture _that_ close to ‘possibly ruin our friendship’ territory at a sprint, okay, this is a leisurely walk down the road of bad ideas.

Eh, it’s not the worst bad idea he’s had in a while.

“You,” he sighs when Simon brings him the updated drafts of his speech, “are the most fantastic android I have ever met.”

Simon chuckles as he leaves. “You’re the one that wrote the speeches, Markus.”

“Do you have a special subroutine that makes you the most compassionate person in the world,” Markus asks as they leave yet another meeting, “or did going deviant make it blossom within you?”

“It’s called being _polite,_ Markus,” Simon chides with a smile on his face, “that’s all.”

“I could have the whole world at my fingertips,” Markus declares as the brush swirls across the canvas, “and you’re still what I would choose to paint.”

“If you think that’s gonna get you out of cleaning that glob that I _saw_ fall on the carpet,” Simon laughs, “you’re wrong.”

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs into Simon’s ear as he climbs on stage for the press conference.

“So are you,” comes the whisper back, “now go do your thing.”

If Markus takes a little longer to get into the swing of things that day, no one mentions it.

“I need you,” Markus manages one night when he can’t stop looking at the appeals, “I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life and it scares the hell out of me.”

Simon’s touches feel like northern stars as he guides Markus to his bed.

“Sleep, Markus, you’re exhausted,” Simon murmurs, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Markus closes his eyes, watching through his lashes as Simon goes right back to work. Simon hasn’t stopped blushing when Markus tells him this stuff, but he doesn’t do anything else. Markus knows he’s not going to get much else out of him like this. And he’s sure as hell not going to make things awkward between them. He needs Simons too much to even _think_ about it. Simon’s made his choices, Markus will live with them.

Maybe that’ll be enough. To get to tell Simon how much he means to him every day. To have him by his side. And it’s not like he’s settling; he told North the truth. This friendship with Simon fills something that he never knew existed, not until the awful day at Stratford where he had to leave Simon on that roof. Nothing felt as good as hugging his friend when he stumbled back into Jericho.

Markus drifts off to sleep. He will keep what he has with Simon, keep these little moments for himself. Plus, Simon doesn’t seem to mind the compliments.

* * *

Simon is really confused as to why Markus is flirting with him all of a sudden.

Markus must be practicing, or something, because literally all he did was walk into the same room as Markus and North one day and then Markus was telling him he gets lost in Simon’s eyes.

What the hell is Simon supposed to say to that?

Then it didn’t stop. It was ‘you’re perfect’ here, ‘what would I ever do without you?’ there, and it gets to the point where all Markus has to do it look at Simon a certain way and Simon’s head spins, the room tilting on its axis until the only thing he can see is Markus, Markus, Markus.

That’s not even the worst part, though, because Simon can’t tell how much Markus realizes he’s doing.

They’re sitting on the couch that’s way too small, squished together until Simon isn’t sure which arm is tucked where, each plugging away at their own separate tasks.

“I swear, this legislation is going to be the death of me,” Markus grumbles from somewhere around Simon’s knees.

“We’ve gotten most of the bigger things out of the way, we just need to finish the minutiae of it.”

“I don’t know how to explain to these people that they should care about other people, Simon.”

“I know.” Simon gets a hand on what he thinks is Markus’ shoulder and pats it. “Just…we gotta stay as calm as possible, yeah?”

“You make me calmer, Simon.”

Markus, of course, doesn’t even look away from what he’s doing. Simon, on the other hand, is having trouble doing anything.

_That’s_ the worst part. It’s so matter-of-fact that Simon knows Markus believes what he’s saying wholeheartedly. Which means he probably believes the other stuff too. The stuff about Simon’s hair, his eyes, his _voice_ even.

“I’m not different from any other PL600,” he tries once when Markus makes a comment about his hair looking like a halo.

“You’re _my_ PL600,” Markus replies.

When he’s alone, with his memory of each of these little moments, the audio recordings bounce around his head and he can’t get enough of them.

_“You never cease to amaze me, Simon.”_

_“All of that wonderful kindness and you’re good at this negotiation too? Wow.”_

_“You really are worth the whole lot of them put together, aren’t you?”_

_“Simon, the world’s worth nothing to me if I can’t share it with you,”_

Simon covers his face with his hands. Markus does this; he’s too good at understanding what he’s feeling and translating that into something other people get. He does it with everything. How he paints, how he talks with the lawmakers, everything. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Simon isn’t an exception to this.

PL600s are designed—or _were_ designed—to work well off of praise. They respond to it to better follow instructions. Simon knows that, knows that it translated into him wanting to please, even through his deviancy. To be useful, to be wanted, to have someone smile at him and tell him he’s done a good job.

He’s got all he ever wanted from Markus. Markus is all warm smiles and teases that are gentle enough not to hurt but sharp enough to make Simon blush. Markus is compliments and soft eyes and the aura of someone who is _safe._

He’d be selfish to ask for more.

Simon knows this is just Markus being Markus. Sweet, caring, wonderful, _oblivious_ Markus.

Who can’t see how much Simon needs him.

He gets a call from Connor.

“Connor? What’s wrong?”

“There’s a virus going around,” Connor says from the other end. Simon sits up straight.

“What is it? How is it transmitted? Is there any anti-virus software?”

“It’s a sickness emulator,” Connor says, and Simon can hear the faint smile through his voice, “nothing more than the common cold. We’re working on a solution but the virus itself doesn’t seem to be all that harmful.”

Simon breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. What do you need from me?”

“I’m sending you the list of symptoms. Make sure no one over there has it.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Connor says, “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

_And that really is the kicker,_ Simon thinks as he heads toward the rest of Jericho, _because it’s only Markus’ compliments that make him react._

No one has any of the symptoms. North is fine, Josh is fine, everyone’s good.

Simon just has to go check on Markus.

Markus looks up when Simon opens the door.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Hi.” Simon shuts the door, willing the blush to _go away._ “Do you have a minute?”

“For you? Always.” Markus sets aside the stack of paper. “What can I do for you?”

Pushing away all of the other responses, Simon explains what Connor told him.

“Oh. Are you hear to check me out?”

_He means in terms of the sickness, Simon._

“Yes.”

“Well then.” Markus leans back, spreading his arms. “I’m all yours.”

_Stop. Doing. That._

He examines Markus’ eyes, resolutely ignoring everything but the clarity of the lenses. He asks Markus to deactivate the skin just over his left shoulder, ignoring the way Markus doesn’t shift his posture at all, completely comfortable with letting Simon invade his space. Markus is fine. Simon is fine.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”

Everything is not fine.

“Almost done,” Simon says, “just have to check if you’ve got a fever.”

“A fever?” Markus frowns. “How are androids supposed to do that?”

Simon shrugs. “Connor said this virus emulates sickness. I’m sure it figured out some way.”

“I swear they keep coming up with more things to make us complicated.”

“We’re people, Markus,” Simon corrects, “we were always complicated.”

See, normally something like that would elicit one of the Markus Compliments, but Markus is quiet, looking up at Simon. Well, he’s not going to be able to take the reading like this, his own internal temperature is way off course.

Well, there is a way that humans do it.

Best not to overthink it.

* * *

Simon leans forward and presses his lips to Markus’ forehead and the entire world stops spinning.

“Okay. No fever.”

Simon’s voice sounds like it’s coming from a very _very_ long way away. Markus is still floating on cloud nine because _holy shit Simon just kissed him._

_No,_ a very rude voice in his head corrects. _he just checked if you have a fever._

“Markus?”

Markus looks up automatically. Simon’s face swims into focus, a mess of concern.

“Are you okay?”

_No._

_Why did you do that?_

_Please don’t leave._

_I love you._

What comes out of his mouth is none of these.

* * *

“Your lips are so soft,” Markus murmurs, “I could kiss them all day long.”

Simon freezes. Markus looks so sincere it _hurts._

“You—“ and Simon can’t do this anymore— “you can’t just _say_ things like that, Markus.”

He tears his gaze away.

“I’ll believe them.”

“Why shouldn’t you believe me?”

“Because you do this with everything, Markus,” Simon cries, thankful this office is far away from everything else, “because you’re too good at explaining what you’re feeling and you make it seem so _easy_ and that’s fine but I can’t do that.”

There’s a rustle from over Simon’s shoulder. Markus’ hand sears through his jacket.

“Simon,” Markus calls, his voice achingly patient, “it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, I understand—“

“No you _don’t,_ ” Simon bites out, “no, you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t say those things.”

_Shit._

* * *

Markus’ thirium pump stutters in his chest. No, no, no, he’s ruined everything.

He’s crossed some line, does something, now they can’t go back to what they were before. He’s ruined his friendship with Simon.

“…will you—“ he starts, immediately taking his hand back—“will you tell me what I did wrong?”

Simon still won’t look at him.

“Forget it.”

“Simon, _please—“_

“Don’t.” Simon’s voice cuts through his plea like a hot knife through butter. “Don’t beg.”

Markus looks at the floor, shame coloring his cheeks. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Simon laughs mirthlessly, his hand raking through his hair. “I’m making a mess out of this.”

“No, no, Simon—“ Markus reaches out for him— “you haven’t done anything wrong, I promise, I just—“

“Markus.”

With one word Simon cuts the flow to Markus’ windpipe and he chokes. He closes his mouth and waits.

Simon’s shoulders tense and then release, his head raising. His back is still turned.

“I understand that you mean the things you say,” Simon begins and his voice sounds _awful_ and Markus would do absolutely everything to never hear that voice again, “and I understand that you are like that about everything you do.”

He finally turns around. “I’m sorry that I reacted like that. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I didn’t mean to upset _you,_ ” Markus says in a hurry, “I just—“

He fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“…you seemed to like when I told you how much you mean to me,” he admits, “and I…didn't realize how—what—I didn’t _mean—_ that thought didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”

* * *

Oh, Markus. Sweet, wonderful, _infuriating_ Markus.

Simon closes his eyes, trying to find the right words.

“You mean a great deal to me, Markus,” he confesses, “and I am happy to be here in whatever capacity you want me. But…”

He looks at Markus, whose face is still _way_ too good at expressing emotion.

“When you say things like that, I don’t know what capacity that is.”

Markus cracks a smile. “You know, for all you talk about me being good at this, you’re way better at it than I am.”

Simon blushes.

“I’m not helping, am I?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“No, but—“

“ _Simon,_ ” Markus sighs, still smiling, “come on. Work with me here.”

Simon takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know why you started flirting with me. I don’t mind it—“ Simon flares bright blue as Markus cocks an eyebrow— “I _don’t,_ but…I don’t know what you want from me.”

Markus walks forward, reaching out to stroke the bright blue of Simon’s cheek.

“I want _you,_ ” he murmurs, “in whatever capacity you’re willing to give me. I’m happy to be your friend, your companion, whatever. Just let me stay with _you._ ”

This, Markus telling him how much he _needs_ Simon, the same way Simon needs him.

If Simon’s memory failed and this was all that got preserved, there’s no other moment he’d want instead.

* * *

Markus waits anxiously, still worried Simon’s going to pull away. But Simon doesn’t. He just blinks up at him with those deep blue eyes and smiles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

Markus can’t stop the relieved smile spreading across his face.

“So, the flirting.”

“I didn’t even know that’s what I was _doing_ until North pointed it out.”

“Markus—“

“No, wait, I compliment everyone else too!”

“Yes, you do. You don’t make them blush.”

“It’s not my fault you’re blushy!”

“It’s your fault if you kept doing it to _see_ me blush.”

Yeah, Simon’s got him there.

“It’s definitely not my fault you’re so adorable when you blush.”

“Well that’s just rude,” Simon mutters as said blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

Simon smiles at him and if the world stopped here, if it was just this moment, Markus would be happy.

Then Simon smirks.

“So, you said my lips were soft.” He tips his chin toward Markus. “Care to make good on your promise?”

_rA9._

Simon’s eyes widen. “Whoa…is that what I did every time?”

Markus can only nod through the vibrant blue on his face.

“Well, then I see why you did it. That’s _adorable._ ”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

* * *

Scratch that.

_This_ is the moment he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


End file.
